Today's Dilbert cartoon pretty much summed it up for me. Sarah recently said, "But, I already helped Eleanor TWICE today, Mom," when I asked her to assist Eleanor in reaching a desired snack from the pantry closet. I looked at Sarah and said, "Okay - so can I help you guys a certain number of times today and then QUIT?!" She laughed and replied, "Well, no Mom. Duh, you're the Mom!" Yep, I am, aren't I. I told Sarah that she may feel put upon now, but that eventually she'd get the better end of the deal when she gets to leave for college first while the other kids help me do the dishes 'cause they're still stuck with the mean mommy who expects people to help out around here. (Of course, when Sarah leaves she'll have to figure out how to do her OWN dishes and laundry, etc... I left that part out for now).

I recently started a new job as lab manager for my advisor. This has been going fairly well, except that I'm on my second week of trying to disguise that I have some kind of respiratory crud that makes me cough up green sticky stuff (eew!) and makes me sound like a frog on the phone. Of course, I have also been trying to lay 1.5 tons of flagstone steppers in the front yard in the rain while I cough up green sticky stuff... duh, think maybe I should quit while I'm ahead? (Assuming I HAVE a head?) I'm finally taking myself to the doctor tomorrow to tell her, "I'm not a wimp, I've tried for two weeks to get better already. Help."

I also have had various things blow up at bad times. I have this laundry list of things that are keeping me insanely busy besides work, all of which sound like bad excuses for being late on a deadline, but all of which are absolutely true: my youngest child had blood gushing out of her mouth and nose and nearly knocked a tooth out of her head (but at least she had a helmet on and didn't injure other parts of her head) when she faceplanted into the newly set concrete that was recently poured but the worker guys had to rip our storm door off when they were jackhammering outside my office all day, which caused me to have to head to Home Depot where I waited for a half hour in the millwork department for the plywood guy to come and tell me that nobody from the millwork department was in that day to help me throw money at them in return for a new patio slider, while I could have been at home with my houseguests who were here for Memorial Day weekend except that I was so exhausted that I slept most of the time, and today the thunderstorms were so severe that our basement flooded a bit because we don't have a good cover on that one window well that we should have fixed a long time ago. Oh, and the lightning made our phone adapter blow up, so I had to go to Best Buy to get a new one after spending an hour with somebody in Vonage's "customer service department" (hah!) in Bombay, India, who kept telling me that if I unplugged and then rebooted the busted one just one more time... it would surely work. Wait, no, unplug your cable modem now, then your adapter, now plug in a different phone, let me transfer you to ADVANCED tech support. "Hi, this is advanced tech support. I want you to unplug your adapter..." (I think the exasperated scream may have clued him in that I had already tried that one... they're crediting our account the $40 for a new adapter now!)

But at least my poor baby Genevieve is okay, the tooth has miraculously moved forward from behind her other bloodied teeth, the oral surgeon gave her a thumbs-up, the split lip is healing, and she likes the taste of her watermelon-flavored antibiotics from the Walgreens drive-thru. I paid over $400 today to a pediatric dentist who told me that neither Sarah nor Eleanor have any cavities, so we won't have to pay another $1K to get anything fixed right now (key words; RIGHT NOW). I decided that anybody who gets my $400 also needs to hear that an after-hours phone message with an emergency number for people whose kids fall off their trikes and hit the concrete and nearly knock teeth out of their heads would be really helpful for those of us who forget names and phone numbers in crises that involve multiple screaming children, some of whom are bloody and require immediate oral dental/medical help. He said, "Point taken." Poor Eleanor was screaming as much as Gennie did that night, everybody was scared, and El was the only one letting herself go ahead and yell it out (well, besides the bleeding one). My own (non-pediatric) dentist dragged himself away from home at 7:30 pm on a Thursday night to tell us she'd be okay - thank goodness, the kind man saved me from having my own breakdown that night. (Of course, I had paid him rather handsomely for wielding needles and drills in my OWN head the week before...)

Speaking of crying, I have been trying very hard not to get upset with Eleanor, who snivels and whines about every possible unfair situation that MIGHT (or might not, actually) exist in the universe that doesn't favor her. For example: we can take turns riding Genevieve's tricycle, but Gennie had better not TOUCH Eleanor's scooter. She has adopted a pouty lip that quivers at the least provocation, a wail that could call the elk down from the mountains this coming autumn, and a whiny "hmph!" that makes her Mom's blood boil. "Eleanor, Mommy bu xihuan nide 'hmph.'" (Mommy doesn't like your "hmph.") "Sorry, Mommy." Two seconds later: "Hmph." Things are gradually getting better as she realizes that even after a half hour of wailing, she still doesn't get to eat ice cream for breakfast. Cruel, cruel world. Fortunately, she still has a smile that makes up for most of her mom's frazzled nerves. I'll let you know if the elk show up, though. (She has no setting between "off" and "high," this child!)

Oh, but I also need to get the patients scheduled, the tests ordered, the reports done, the protocol submitted, act happy on the phone, and put out some candy for folks. But - I already helped TWICE today!

Thank goodness for sweet, snuggly girls at the end of the day, who make up for all of their squabbling with giggly conversations about what brown bear, brown bear sees. Who sink into fuzzy pink pillows and want one more hug, and drift off as they listen to the Mandarin lullaby CD while the lighted butterflies in the window keep watch. Our Peter Pan days will become Nancy Drew nights (and then goodness knows what in the wee hours of the morning), and I wipe away a tear for every inch they grow.

Seven years ago today, Eleanor was found. Maybe she was born that day; her umbilical cord was still attached when she was brought to the orphanage. Someone at the orphanage named her after the waves of the ocean, hoping that she would grow up healthy and strong. I wonder sometimes if her birth mother named her before they did - a first name, a secret name. Something that was whispered into her ear before propping a bottle and slipping away into the crowds. A wish for her to be loved, to be found, to find family. Maybe I've romanticized it too much, but I can't imagine a mother wishing for anything less. I have the name of the bus station employee who found her; I wonder what he thought of her that day. He must have been kind, and brave; he probably was interrogated by the local authorities, but he still thought it was important to answer her cries and make sure she was safe. The earliest picture I have of Eleanor was at a few months old (and we're so lucky to have pictures at all!); I can only imagine what her little newborn face looked like. She probably had a tuft of crazy black hair, and a puzzled look in her eyes that said, "What exactly is going on, anyway? Can I eat now?" (A look of hers I'm very familiar with, personally).

It's strange to have so little memory of the day your child was born; Dave dug through his archived e-mails to see what we were doing seven years ago. I was a single mother of three-year-old Sarah at that point; Dave and I had met a few months before and we had begun dating. Well, according to the old e-mail, he had given me a bouquet of gladiolus as a gift the week Eleanor was born, and we were discussing going to a star party at the observatory that weekend. I was at a time in my life when I wasn't sure if I was ever going to have more babies; but I was beginning to feel "found" again, too. I knew David was very special, and was probably going to be around for a very long time.

I don't really know if Eleanor misses China. She and Genevieve played a game in the car the other day as we drove around near Boulder, within view of the Flatirons. Genevieve said, "Look, Mommy. Up there in the mountains is the Great Wall of China! I like to climb the Great Wall of China!" (Genevieve is also the only 4-year-old American kid I know who exclaims, "Look, Mom - Chinese characters!" when she sees a Chinese restaurant sign.) Anyway, Eleanor chimed in with, "Yes, look Mommy, ni kan! Chinese!" Apparently China is everywhere we want it to be.

I smiled as my girls took themselves somewhere else, somewhere they've been, somewhere that feels as faraway as any other pretend place they might come up with in their play. And part of me also wept for what we're missing. It's only a 15 hour flight, after all - but it feels a world away. Eleanor hasn't had an emotional breakdown for a very long time now. In fact, the last time I've seen her openly grieve was for only a moment while talking with her foster mother on the phone a few weeks ago, and that seemed to be a mixture of joy and sorrow, rather than the rage and despair we saw during our first days together. Crying these days consists of pouty tears when something doesn't go her way (like Evil Mommy offering her a banana and milk for an afternoon snack instead of candy and soda - horrors). I asked her today if she wanted to call her "Zhonggua Mama" (China Mama - our name for her foster mother). I posed the question several times in both Mandarin and English before she responded. Then she said, "No, Mommy," and kept on playing happily with her sisters. I felt sad about that, but didn't want to push her, either.

I'm seeing so many changes in Eleanor as she becomes more confident and more able to communicate with us. Some things worry me; she isn't using grammatically correct Mandarin much, and seems reluctant to speak Chinese much at all. Sometimes I'm the one asking her questions in Mandarin, and she answers in English! I'm afraid she may be losing her language. I haven't found a good class for her; summer isn't the best time to look, it would seem - the Chinese schools I've found aren't accepting new students until fall, and the Colorado Chinese Heritage Camp this August is full with a waiting list. If anybody has suggestions for Boulder area weekend Mandarin classes for kids - I could sure use the pointers!

Anyway, today was such a happy day. Grandma came over, and we had a barbeque and enjoyed the garden. Eleanor loved opening her gifts and it was a beautiful day to be outside. It was a day just for her, and it felt so good to have everyone together for her first birthday since becoming a family. Here are some pictures from the day:

Everybody got plenty of cake. Some of it even ended up in their tummies.

As the children headed upstairs to get the chocolate off their faces and get ready for bed, I took a red helium balloon from the bunch in our kitchen, and went outside to let it go. As I watched it sail upwards, I said a silent thank you to Eleanor's birthmother for bringing her into the world, and to everyone who loved her before I could get to her. I'm so glad Eleanor was born, and I'm so glad she's home. I'm a lucky, lucky mommy.

P.S. By the way, I have rethought the helium balloon release thing since actually doing it. I had a hunch that it might not be such a good idea after thinking about it a while, and Googled for "helium balloon release" only to find horrid stories about whales choking on deflated balloons, etc. Since I can't bear the thought of choking a whale, I'll be lighting a candle next time, instead of sending floating litter into the air.

Yes, I'm one melted Mommy. Eleanor brought some special things home from Kindergarten yesterday, and I had to work hard not to tear up. She was SO proud to show me her work, as always - every day when she comes home she brings out her entire folder of kindergarten flyers and worksheets and wants me to look at them right away (and usually makes a lovely mess of my desk doing it). But these were particularly special, and she proudly read the cards to me (we moms do need interpreters, after all), and looked at me with the best, satisfied smile on her face. I told her it was a special Mother's Day for me, because it's the first one that I've been her mother, and she's my best gift. All my girls are my best gifts.

I had been celebrating doing well at the university (prepare for wanton self-congratulatory stories here), despite discouragement from a neuroscience professor who, when I told him of my upcoming trip to China and my wish for additional readings to bring me up to speed on the advanced material we were covering, told me I had no business being in the neuroscience dual Ph.D. program, and that he planned to contact my department with complaints of how woefully unprepared SLHS doctoral students are. Well, he can go ahead and make an example of me now - I received an 'A' in his course, and he can go suck an egg. I also had several undergraduate students tell me that the class I taught was the best they've ever had at CU, which I appreciated very much. The department chair told me that some students had even switched majors (joining SLHS) because they liked my class so well, which naturally felt very good to hear. I was proud of myself as a working mother with a few brains in her head - but receiving Eleanor's card was far more satisfying. Going to China to bring her home is bar none the best thing I've done this semester; probably the best thing I've ever done, period. And not because of what I've done for her - it's what she's done for me, and for our family. She has completed us.

I know this particular daughter of mine has several mothers, who probably don't celebrate Mother's Day - but I celebrate their gift to me in bravely birthing a beautiful girl, and bravely loving her briefly before letting her go. And I thank the people of China for trusting me with one of their most precious citizens, and for allowing me to be her mother.

I am reminded that Mother's Day was not, in fact, created by the greeting card and floral industries (although it would seem so today), but was first called for by Julia Ward Howe as a protest against the carnage of the Civil War. She was a Unitarian, which I appreciate, too. Mother's Day is the result of one mother's call for peace. That I would receive a Mother's Day card from a child who comes to me as the result of international cooperation seems even more appropriate, when reading Howe's original proclamation in 1870. Here's to the "great human family:"

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.
"From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.
"Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Eleanor's Certificate of Citizenship came from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services today. She became a U.S. citizen automatically upon returning home with us after the adoption, and now her paperwork has been processed, and we have the proof.

Last night David and I went to see the musical "Ragtime" at the Boulder Dinner Theatre. The production and cast were excellent, but the story made me cry, it was so touching. The show was probably one of the very best I've ever seen. It takes place in turn-of-the-century New Rochelle, and explores race relations, adoption, and immigration issues. Three families are intertwined - a WASP family, an African-American family, and a Jewish immigrant family from Latvia. Any more info would be a spoiler - so go see the show! Probably best without the kids, though - it has some rough language in spots (racial group conflicts central to the storyline) and deals with difficult situations. It spoke to why our country is a great place, and why it could be so much greater. On one hand, it's obvious that much has changed in the last hundred years; but some things still need changing.

I've been getting a crash course on these issues since coming home with Eleanor. Most people look at us very kindly, but I've seen the ones that haven't been so kind. I tend to look back with a raised eyebrow, sort of a mama-bearish, "And your point is...?" kind of look. And those people will generally either look away, or ask a question. Usually people who ask about adoption are also very kind, but some people seem to think it's their business to tell me about how the Chinese are awful to abandon their children (as if most of them even had a choice given the situation in China), or ask how much the adoption cost (or worse, how much "she cost"), or ask about why we didn't adopt in the United States. And they do so directly in front of Eleanor, who is learning English so quickly that I can't be sure that she doesn't understand what they're asking (and I'm sure, at the very least, that she knows they're talking about her in some way). I'm starting to come up with a range of answers to give, depending on how rudely the questions are asked. And there's always the classic, "Why do you ask?" Some people are clueless and just need gentle redirection, others really need a verbal wake-up call. I do answer genuine inquiries with care (or sometimes simply by replying that we prefer to keep some matters private), but I also have these on hand: "She has always been a wanted child." "We paid about the same that we paid for medical bills when our other daughters were born, except for airfare, of course." and "Because my daughter was in China." (If folks are interested, I might go into how the vast majority of adoption costs go to U.S. entities, how care and education of orphans differs from country to country, and how laws do not favor adoptive parents' rights in the U.S.) Of course, if somebody asks how much SHE cost, rather than the adoption, the answer is simple: she's priceless. That the majority of responses have been positive has given me faith in people being good at heart.

We did receive a form letter from George W. Bush with Eleanor's new certificate (and yes, it was actually a lot better than "Welkum to 'Merkuh") :-) He may not be my favorite president ever, but at least he has a good secretary writing his letters for him:

"Dear Fellow American:

I am pleased to congratulate you on becoming a United States citizen. You are now a part of a great and blessed Nation. I know your family and friends are proud of you on this special day.

Americans are united across the generations by grand and enduring ideals. The grandest of these ideals is an unfolding promise that everyone belongs, that everyone deserves a chance, and that no insignificant person was ever born. Our country has never been united by blood or birth or soil. We are bound by principles that move us beyond our backgrounds, lift us above our interests, and teach us what it means to be citizens. Every citizen must uphold these principles. And every new citizen, by embracing these ideals, makes our country more, not less, American.

As you begin to participate fully in our democracy, remember that what you do is as important as anything government does. I ask you to serve your new Nation, beginning with your neighbor. I ask you to be citizens building communities of service and a Nation of character. Americans are generous and strong and decent not because we believe in ourselves, but because we hold beliefs beyond ourselves. When this spirit of citizenship is missing, no government program can replace it. When this spirit is present, no wrong can stand against it.

Welcome to the joy, responsibility, and freedom of American citizenship. God bless you, and God bless America.

Sincerely, George W. Bush"

Now, this may be a little heavy on the hooray-for-us propaganda, but I do know that we are very lucky to live in the country we live in. I've been feeling the blessings of a rich life (while remembering my graduate student budget). I was working in the garden soil, within view of our lovely mountains, while my children played beside me this afternoon. The mail carrier cheerfully brought us our country's blessing for our newest family member, and my children ran to greet him (he's a sweet man). I chatted with our neighbor over the fence about our kids, and about school services that are provided to every child in this country. My job this summer is funded by an NIH grant, and I feel the hope in that money - that we might learn something great that might benefit our children.

I hope our country makes good choices about protecting what is most important at home - our clean air, our fresh water, our children's futures. I hope that we don't wait for God to bless America - we have so much power to do that ourselves.

I heard a quote recently that I really liked: "The best way to predict the future is to create it." Indeed.

We had a birthday party for Sarah last Saturday, at the park across the street from our house. Sarah invited her best friends from school, and the family that lives next door. It was a gorgeous day, and just felt wonderful to be out and having a good time. Here are some pictures from the event:

Sitting in the park shelter with a birthday cake and our neighbors (we have three children next door who like to play with our three children... rather handy, eh?)

Gennie takes a walk on the soft, green grass.

Chasing bubbles!

My exuberant youngest daughter catching bubbles in the sunshine. What could be better?

A newly 10-year-old Sarah with a view of the mountains and lake behind her.

Getting out the croquet set...

For a game of free-form croquet! Who needs rules? Okay, maybe we don't need rules... but we might need helmets!

The lake and mountains behind it... a beautiful day to be in the park.

Opening presents with friends.

Our neighbors' beautiful family.

Throwing fancy footballs

Grandma Jean looks on with a smile.

We headed home with cake leftovers and helium balloons that had started to sag and some very happy and tired kids. (Their mom's been starting to sag a bit lately, too... but we'll leave that topic alone for the time being). I spent the next day helping Grandma Jean rip junipers and evil metal edging out of her yard, and put up shelving in her basement. I would say that she owes me big, except that Grandma's babysitting for us tonight. (Oh my goodness... a DATE OPPORTUNITY? Can we even remember the last time that happened?) We're discovering that it's really nice to have Grandma in town! I should be studying for my neuroscience final nonstop, but I'll try to let that go for one night to have fun.

I have one more week of insanity at the university before I can relax a little and then start a new lab manager job this summer. I'm hoping that after managing a huge class of undergraduates that managing a laboratory will be relatively simple (she said glibly). I'll give it my all, in any case (just hoping I don't run out of "all" to give in the meantime)!

In kid news: Sarah recently built Mesa Verde out of Sculpey for a school diorama project (didn't know the ancient Puebloans had Sculpey, you learn something new every day). I will be hot-gluing miniature log ladders for her this weekend. Genevieve loves life. She loves it so much that she forgets that she has to pee in appropriate places. She is also very determined that it will happen her way, and therefore is pretty sneaky about peeing in her pants. Her mother is equally determined that it will go Mommy's way, and is resorting to strict potty schedules, sticker charts, bribery, minor punishments and whatever else she can think of to get this now 4-year-old little girl to go where she needs to go. After all is said and done (which usually involves some degree of whining and groaning and "if you don't choose soon, Mommy will choose for you"), we still end up with at least one accident a day. I have a feeling the poor kiddo's troubles are related to the arrival of Eleanor and the stress that goes with it - Gen is grabbing control wherever she can find it. So is Eleanor at times, but Eleanor is relaxing more and more as she gets used to being home. She is gaining English proficiency at an exponential rate, and I love her excitement at everyday things. She does a happy dance when we go to the grocery store, and loves to show me her homework, and squeals with glee when going outside to play. Eleanor LOVES that we're planting tomatoes and peppers and strawberries in the back yard - she helps me happily in the garden, and points at the plant labels and says, "Yum, Mommy! YUM!!" Genevieve follows Eleanor around trying to do everything she does, and I inevitably have to mediate "but that was MY pile of weeds" sorts of battles. So, I make sure to snuggle both of my youngest girls as much as possible before bedtime (they both seem to need me a lot these days), and squeeze Sculpey with my oldest (another kind of therapy!), and I love them all like crazy. Life is good.